Happiness
by RobertDowneyJrLove
Summary: Steve has a question for Natasha - "Will you marry me?" She's hesitant but tired of denying herself happiness. Happiness that she found with him. And it's that happiness that gives him the answer he was hoping for.


The ring - dear Lord, that ring - is still in his dresser, a full six weeks after buying it. Just thinking about it brought about a feeling of impending doom, as if the damn thing was going to cause the apocalypse. It's quite silly, but Steve Rogers has always had a terrible habit of overthinking things. It wasn't necessarily a habit carried over from his youth, so much as one picked up after his enhancement; after he became Captain America, when he couldn't get his mind to just _stop _- when his mental acuity nearly drove him insane.

He had spent many a night acquainting himself with insomnia.

Until her.

Until Natasha.

His God-send. The adjustment to life in a brand new century is made easier by her presence in his life. He feels different with her around. He feels as if he's met his match both on the battlefield and off, like he is on equal footing with her in all aspects of life. She is his strength when he doesn't feel like he has any left. She is the tiny but lethal woman that is perfectly capable of protecting herself, but still needs him when Bruce is around. She is his personal chef when missions relinquish any form of nourishment to fast food. She is his protector and his pillow when the nightmares plague him. She is his safe place when the bullies become too much and when the weight of the world crushes him.

She is his best friend.

He can't imagine his future without her in it and he hopes he never has to. He has a hard time remembering his life before her and he doesn't want to think about a life after her, should it ever come to that. He wants a life with her, with the laughter and the food and everything that has made their relationship great so far. It's why he buys the ring, why he thinks about how to ask her day and night, and why he reminds her that he loves her everyday.

It's why he wants this, so much.

He wakes to the briny aroma of bacon and the feel of cool sheets instead of her soft, warm body. A quick glance at the clock tells him that's a little after eight, the latest he's slept since he was 'Capsicle'. He lays still, listening to her bustle around the kitchen, making their breakfast for the day. He pictures her clear in his head, flipping the bacon and cracking the eggs, a shy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Always with that shy smile.

He gets up out of bed, needing to witness these things for himself.

It's hard to sneak up on a spy, but he quietly pads down the short hallway to the kitchen and peeks in on her. She's hovering over a pan of frying eggs at the stove, spatula in hand and free hand on her hip. A pale shoulder peeks out of the collar of one of his dress shirts, half-buttoned and falling off of her small frame, and her bare legs are truly something to behold. She has a dancer's legs - she is Russian so he does wonder if she was a ballerina at one point. Her tousled curls move and bounce as she does and he knows that her jade eyes are bright and she's alert.

It's this picture before him that gives him the push he needs to sneak back to the bedroom and pull the ring box out of the drawer. He's been waiting long enough, it was time to do something about this. She'd definitely notice if he put the box in his pocket but he really wants to do this over breakfast so that is a risk he's willing to take. He makes his way back into the kitchen and sneaks up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist.

"Morning 'Tasha." Steve greets softly, pressing a kiss into the top of her head.

"Morning." Natasha leans her head back, resting it against his shoulder. "Breakfast is almost ready."

Steve just nods, dropping a kiss onto her cheek before releasing her to make himself a cup of coffee. Her mug is sitting by the stove, cream and sugar changing the color to a dark caramel. For all of her toughness and strength, he knows that straight black coffee is something Natasha cannot handle. Or, doesn't like rather. It was too bitter and he absently wonders if maybe that bitterness dredges up old memories, she'd rather forget.

She makes him a plate, just the way he likes it - three eggs, over easy, a few strips of bacon and two pieces of buttered toast - and sets it on the table for him before going to make her own. He waits patiently for her to finish making her own plate before he starts eating. He refuses to give up his gentlemanly ways just because he is in a committed relationship. If anything, his relationship with Natasha has made him more of a gentleman.

His mother would be proud.

"You could have started eating, Steve." Natasha admonishes, taking her seat at the table, plate and coffee mug in hand. "You don't have to wait for me."

"Old habits die hard, I suppose." Steve grins, picking up his fork. "I'm still a forties kid at heart."

Natasha just smiles and crunches on a piece of bacon. He is still very much a forties kid and that's one of the reasons, she loves him so much. Unlike some men, Steve has morals and values that he maintains, despite what people may say about him in uncalled-for judgment. Despite living in a century that is so different from the one he was born in, he refuses to change and to Natasha that is admirable in a man.

Like most meals, breakfast passes in relative silence, but it's okay with them. They've learned to enjoy the silence and just being together, without the hindrance of small talk or talk of work. She's standing up to gather the breakfast dishes when he decides it's time. He reaches for her wrist, drawing her closer to him, as he stands up from his chair. He just laughs at her inquisitive look - always the curious one, she is but he wouldn't change her for the world.

"Natasha," he slips his arms around her waist, tugging her against his chest. She leans up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders. Her eyes are bright and the spark of true happiness in them gives him the courage to keep going. "You know that I love you, right?"

"I know."

"Good." Steve smiles, dropping a kiss into her hair. "I love how you're there for me, no matter what. I love the way you know what to say when I have nightmares. And I love that you are willing to share your life with me."

"Steve," Natasha pulls away slightly to look at him, "What's this about?"

"I didn't know how to do this." Steve reaches into his pocket and pulls out the navy blue velvet box. "I bought this six weeks ago but I was always too scared to ask you until today."

It's dizzying to think about - the contents of the box, the implications behind it, the question that accompanied it. It dizzies her; tenses her up and makes her want to bolt but there's something earnest in his eyes, a bold honesty that keeps her frozen in place, despite the fear. He drops to his knee, kneeling before her as if to worship her and opens the box. It's a beautiful ring, simple and understated and perfect. A ring only he would buy her - only he would know she preferred.

"I know we aren't in a fancy restaurant and I didn't plan on this, but I've learned things don't always work out the way you planned." Steve laughs with such reverence that she can't help laugh with him. "Natasha, I love you. You know this. You are a beautiful, strong woman and I'm lucky to have you in my life. And I don't want to scare you but I've wanted to ask you this for a long time so..." he held up the ring box and smiled tenderly. "Natalia Romanova, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

_Oh. _

She couldn't do this.

How could she marry him? With the ledger she has? With all of the red? But, God, did she love him. Every single part of him; right down to the darkest parts no one else could see. He made her forget her ledger, that dripped with so much red. He opened her up to the parts of life she had always been so deprived of. The happiness that she had been stripped of as a child, the feeling of being not a spy, but a woman, a beautiful woman to be revered and worshipped, and the love she had never allowed herself to indulge in. He showed her how to love. How beautiful and powerful and real love could be and how it transformed a person into something better than they were.

And, she was tired, so tired, of denying herself true happiness.

The happiness she found when she was with him, even on nights when they were too tired to do anything but eat takeout and fall asleep on the couch. The happiness that made her feel like a little girl, not the miniature spy she had been. He made her feel that and there he was, on his knees asking her to marry him, asking her to make this permanent. And she can't for the life of her conjure up any good, real reason why she should tell him no.

"Yes."

She nods vehemently, tears filling her green eyes. His smile widens and he fumbles to get the ring on her finger, still trying to process the fact that he hadn't ruined it. She's going to marry him - she's going to be his wife. And it makes him feel like the luckiest man on the planet. The kiss happens in a flurry of tears and laughs of disbelief, of relief that he wouldn't lose her, of happiness, and of something indescribable but palpable and real and so very beautiful. And together, they cry and laugh and kiss and stumble to the bedroom to celebrate. The ring sparkles on her finger, a simple reminder of his love, and of how much he truly means to her.

And the breakfast dishes are left, forgotten about, on the table.

* * *

**Okay, I can probably guess what you're thinking; why the hell did he propose in the kitchen? Well, there are two reasons for that - one, if they go to a fancy restaurant where a hero like Captain America is likely to be recognized, things could have quickly spiralled out of control and he would have lost his nerve by the time he could actually propose. Two, if you read back over my previous Steve/Nat stories, a lot of what has happened between them has happened in his kitchen, so it seemed only natural that he would propose in the kitchen as well. Also, in case you can't tell, it happened spontaneously. He didn't really plan it, but Natasha's so damn adorable when she's being domestic and...he's Captain freaking America, he can do as he damn well pleases. So just..yeah. Do something. Like...leave me some love, Dolls! **

**Love ya, **

**RobertDowneyJrlove **

**P.S. I had three friends, whom I adore helping me on this and I know they're reading this so just know this; I adore you! You are lovely, the three of you! You know who you are. **


End file.
